Rules and Revelations Part Two
by FotoBridgeT2
Summary: Its not been Sara's week, injured on the job. It's not been Grissom's either as the Scarf Killer gets further from his grasp. Things are really heating up for themand Catherine Knows more than she is letting on.


RULES AND REVELATIONS PART TWO

_Previously…During a girls' night out event Sara, Sofia, and Catherine are involved in a barroom brawl. Nothing major, bumps, bruises and a few stitches. Nick and Sofia are a couple (secretly), Brass finds out about Gil and Sara, Catherine and Nick and Warrick suspect. While working the brawl scene it is discovered that a blonde woman named Tara Dees was stabbed with an engraved knife. The knife wasn't found. Jim calls and tells Grissom they've found another body…._

_Now…three days have passed(after L. Lizards before TGTB The Dominatrix)…bruises are healing….two more bodies were found… in clubs……….._

Jim rubbed his chin, staring at the man beside him. "What have we got, Gil?"

"Very little. So far the only common link between any of the four victims is that they are in the same age range, are white, and go to clubs. Its random, if there's a pattern I haven't found it yet."

"That's it?" Jim stood, walked to the break-room fridge. "We've got to find out how he's choosing his victims. Hell Grissom, we're just lucky he didn't choose Cath or Sara or one of the others."

"You think I haven't thought about that?" Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. "So far we have next to nothing. We've checked all custom knife shops, the weapon is just a generic five inch blade with a custom engraving job. Could have been purchased anywhere."

"And in the meantime—this city is teaming with potential victims. You curtailed Sparky's nightlife?"

"All the women in the lab where told to refrain from going out to nightclubs—not just Sara." Grissom glared at his friend. "I don't control her behavior. And she only goes out with Catherine and Sofia."

"Just wondering. I've spoken to Catherine and Sofia myself."

"And how'd they take it?"

"How'd you think? Both told me they were grown women, could take care of themselves, they always go together and follow their own set of rules, and they appreciated the concern."

"That surprise you?" Grissom smiled, remembering Sara saying nearly the same thing over a week ago. He'd asked her to not go out without him—at least not go to any clubs.

"Nothing surprises me anymore."

"What are you doing Friday?" Warrick straddled the break-room chair, drumming his knuckles on the table.

Sara looked up at her colleague, surprised. She returned her sandwich to the plate. "Nothing much, why?"

"I have this friend, just moved back to Vegas and we're going out Friday. Figured you'll like him. So you in?"

"Sara! I need you," Grissom interrupted before she could answer, coming into the room with a thick stack of papers.

"Sure thing, Griss," She rewrapped her plate and stuck it back in the fridge.

"Well? You up for it?" 

"I don't think so."

"Sara." Impatience tinged the supervisor's tone. "Coming?"

"So what was that about?" Grissom whispered as they walked down the hallway to Grissom's office. "With Warrick." 

"Attempted blind date."

"I hate blind dates myself. So much beyond one's control."

"True."

"One good thing—you'll never have to go on one again." He grinned at her, sharing his joy in their particular secret.

"So what did you need?" Sara sank into the chair beside his desk after pulling it closer. He settled into the chair beside her, foregoing the one behind his desk.

"Sitting a little close, wouldn't you say, Mr. Supervisor?" she asked, leaning into him.

"Be good. The door is open." He spread the folders out across the table, motioning to the first one in the pile. "I pulled all cases for the last six months with anything in common with ours. These twenty-seven files are what I found."

"Twenty-seven in six months? That's a lot." Sara flipped through the first file he handed her. "So what am I looking for?" 

"That's just it—I'm not really sure." He nudged her knee, leaving his leg next to hers. "But it won't hurt to look." 

"Technically, I shouldn't be on this at all."

"Technically—these are different cases. You won't be touching the four files for this case, only searching the other files for commonalities. I want you to do it because you _aren't _familiar with these four cases. Impartiality—see?"

"Admit it, you just want to work with me, all alone, in your office."

"Something like that. Now, less flirting, more file-reading." 

"Such a task master."

They read in near silence for several moments. "Griss, these five folders have general similarities, but so do these fourteen. What exactly are the parameters of the case you're working. I need something to narrow the specs."

"Five inch wound track, single-edged blade. One clean blow to the heart—or lung—in the midst of a huge crowd."

"Okay. Give me a second."

"On to something?" 

"Maybe. These three all have victims who arrived at the bar alone. Did any of your victims?"

"Three. Any other commonalities?"

"Scarves. These two both wore scarves, one pink and one green. Mean anything to you?"

"Maybe. I need to find Nick and Warrick. Meet me for breakfast after shift?"

"You buying?" 

"Of course."

"Nicky? At the Nicole Ernest scene did you happen to find a scarf?" Grissom caught the Texan coming out of the Trace lab. "One of those things women wear, thin, gauzy, most likely silk or polyester?"

"Think so. It important?" Nick walked down the hallway, keeping pace with the older man.

"Might be. We need to cross reference the other scenes along with these three here. Do you know where I can find Warrick?"

"Looking for Sara."

"Why?"

"He's convinced she needs to get out more and wants to set her up with his friend in the DAs office." Nick watched the older man carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. _Was something going on between his Sparky and the Bug-man?_

"She won't go." Grissom said, cryptically.

"How do you know?"

"Simple. Sara doesn't like lawyers—or blind dates."

"How do you know? 

"Nicky, you sound like a broken record, son. She told me several years ago when we were interviewing a suspect. He left a man stuck in the windshield of his car for hours. Thought to rationalize it by saying how he'd _sacrificed to get where he was _and didn't want to ruin it. She told me she hated lawyers, ergo—if Warrick's friend is a lawyer she won't go."

Nick thought for a moment, more concerned with Grissom's reaction then the fact that Sara would say no. What man dating a woman like Sara wouldn't exhibit some sort of jealousy when another guy is mentioned. Maybe the two _weren't _dating?

Grissom bid the Texan to recheck all the evidence envelopes for scarves, then wondered back out into the hall, searching for Warrick. _So he was trying to fix Sara up? We'll see about that. _

Sara was an attractive woman, always getting attention when out in the field, in the lab, and even when they went to the grocery store. Grissom understood it—she still drew him like a moth. She probably always would—but that didn't make it any easier for him to sit back and pretend he wasn't affected by it. Sara was his—just like he was hers. He wished he could let all in the lab know it, wished he could show his claim to her for every man to see.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"Sara, come on, girl. One dinner. If you don't like him that's ok." Warrick twirled Sara's chair around, turning her to face him. "He's back in town after nearly ten years and looking to make some friends."

"Rick, I don't do blind dates."

"Won't be a date, just a couple of friends going for dinner."

"And who all else will be there?"

"Me and Tony and you. Tina if she's speaking to me by then."

"Warrick."

"Come on, if you don't like him, I'll never bother you again. He's a good guy, a lawyer with the DA. Great since of humor, smart. Also went to Harvard. So what do you say?"

"I'm kind of seeing someone right now."

"Really. Ok." Warrick took in her red cheeks and the nervous way she fiddled with her hair. "No problem. So is it serious?"

"I think it could be."

"Anybody I know?" Warrick hid a grin, not able to recall the last time he'd seen her so flustered. Was she seeing a certain Bug-man?

"I'm really not ready to talk about it." 

"Ok. That's cool. He treating you all right?" She'd lost a little weight, looked a little frail, but now that he looked closer, she had a light in her eyes that he wasn't used to seeing. She really was a pretty woman and briefly he wondered why he'd never felt any physical attraction for her. Of course, she'd entered the picture during one of the worst cases of his life and there had been all that speculation about why Grissom had brought in a green girl to investigate the death of one of their own. Then Grissom had asked her to investigate his gambling and by the time he'd gotten past that he'd felt almost fraternal toward the younger woman. No matter who she was seeing—he'd make damned sure the guy treated her right.

"Better than I could imagine. Now, I've got to get back to work." Sara laughed lightly, pushing the man aside. "Tell your lawyer friend I'm sorry. Besides—I'm allergic to attorneys."

Grissom smiled at her words, as he stood outside the conference room door. He'd found Warrick and Sara's words made his heart lift. He did his best to treat her right and the only dark spot in his view was that he couldn't tell the people he cared about all about the _woman _he cared about. But all in good time.

"Warrick. Quick question after you're done there. Were any of the other victims wearing scarves?"

"Wearing, no. But there was a pink scarf found within ten feet of Tara Dees. It relevant?"

"Seems to be the only commonality. Might help explain how he chooses his victims." Grissom frowned suddenly, looking at Sara and the green and tan silk scarf he'd helped her tie on earlier. For some reason she liked scarves, especially when he was a few days behind on shaving. A disturbing thought entered his mind and he was eternally grateful

She'd not worn a scarf out the night of the brawl. If that's what had triggered the serial killer Sara might very well have been targeted.

"Killer is turned on by women's scarves?" Warrick asked as the two men left Sara behind and walked down toward the evidence room. "Seems a bit strange. I mean, turned on by a piece of women's clothing but with no signs of sexual assault, clean kills in the middle of a room crammed full of people—what the hell does it mean?"

"Our boy's something of an exhibitionist and sociopath. Kills for the thrills—because nothing else gives him a high. The danger of detection and the thrill of deception combine to give our man a rush. Why scarves? I don't know yet, but we need to compare all the ones found and go from there."

"I'm on it."

"Yo! Bossman!" Greg rushed out of the DNA lab to stop Grissom. "Just got the DNA results on the scarves found. You'll never believe it." 

"Go on, Greg."

"Two sets of DNA on each scarf, the victim's and an unknown male. The male's samples were all taken near the end of the scarves, as if he'd used the thing as a tether or a leash, pulling the victims to him and BAM. They're stuck!"

"That could explain why the victims didn't cry out. And the slight abrasions found on they're necks. Good work. Now we have to find a specimen to match that sample." Grissom inwardly shuddered, thinking of the times he'd fiddled with the silky material encircling Sara's neck, the ends trailing down her chest. He could certainly understand the man's fascination with scarves. Of course, Sara's scarves affected him differently then, say, _Catherine's _scarves. So what motivated this guy? Did a former lover favor scarves, his mother?

Grissom tabled those thoughts, believing as scientists it was their jobs to focus on hard evidence and leave the intangible _whys _to the psychiatrists and psychologists.

"Are there any similarities between the scarves themselves? Any variables to connect them?"

"Working on it. I've sent them to TRACE and am waiting on results." Greg bounced off, and Grissom held a fleeting thought that the whole hallway vibrated with the boy's energy.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Sara adjusted the microscope again, searching for a commonality in the soil sample. She and Catherine had pulled a body dump near Henderson and had found traces of soil in the victim's brother's car. Now they just had to prove it was the same soil and how it had gotten there.

"Hey! I'm ordering pizza you want to go in?" Greg tapped on her shoulder. "Will get a veggie lover's." 

"Sounds good."

"Great."

"Sara?" Catherine walked in waving files around like a lunatic. "I found these in the back of Camden's truck. Can't make heads nor tells out of them, see what you think."

"Sure. By the way, the soils a perfect match." 

"Step one on the road to jail. Placed at the scene of the body." Catherine smirked, "Want to go talk with the guy?" 

"Oh what fun, talking to a suspect," Sara sighed in pretend boredom, fingering the edges of her blue scarf. Grissom had bought it for her about a month earlier—said he liked the color. She did to, it was the same as his eyes. "Greg, you wanna sit in?" 

"Naw, I can't. Grissom is working on something and I have been told to stick around—he might need my help." The former lab-rat made a face, remembering the help his boss had demanded during several experiments. Deficating in a bucket had been pretty bad and so had having a three hundred pound dummy on your chest. Grissom was dangerous.

"Have fun." Sara laughed, knowing that Grissom actually enjoyed tormenting the younger man during his experiment escapades. Sara thought it was because Grissom saw so much potential in Greg. Why else had he assigned Sara to mentor the boy so many times? _His mind is like yours was in so many ways. Everyone should be blessed with such a student. _He had told her, when she'd asked about it.

"Yeah. Fun." Greg trailed out, shaking his head. "If he squishes me again it's all on your head."

"Oh, but I can handle Grissom." Sara retorted, making notes on a clipboard.

Catherine snorted, "Nobody can handle Grissom."

_Oh Catherine, if only you knew, _Sara thought, smirking. "Sure they can—they just have to _bug _him."

"Hey Grissom! I'm calling in a pizza, you want to pitch in?"

"Sure."

"Great! What toppings. No crickets." Greg warned, entering the empty warehouse where his boss sat. "And why are we in here?"

"We are recreating. This room has roughly the same ceiling dimensions of three of the scenes. We are going to lower the lights and adjust the variables. See just what someone might have been able to see in the situation. And Greg, you have the most experience with nightclubs."

"Great, so no three hundred pound dummies?"

"Not this time."

"We'll need _victims, _who you got helping?"

"I've pulled ten free people from the lab. We're going to put them in several key positions. You're going to be our killer. Fun, right?" Grissom showed him a diagram on which a scale of _Liberty's Palace _and its stage were drawn. Several Xs marked squares. "Here are common areas to most of the clubs in question. Now lets set this place up. Oh and Greg, veggie lovers pizza is fine with me."

"You and Sara for veggies, everyone else pepperoni and sausage. That means you and Sara get to share." Greg moved a table in to position, placing the chairs at various spots around it.

"Great. Hey! Double the order and we'll share with everyone in the experiment. My treat." Grissom handed Greg his credit card and the man left to make the call. 

"Pizza's here!" Warrick called entering the warehouse where a good dozen people milled about, reenacting the crime. Sara and Catherine sat watching, not allowed to actively participate and the tall CSI joined them.

"You talk to your suspect yet?" He asked, spreading the pizza boxes on the table.

"Not yet. Man had an asthma attack and is in the station's infirmary." Catherine rolled her eyes in disgust. "You know, I can't believe Grissom's sprung for pizza. Not like him, he must be in a really good mood." 

"Hey, maybe the man got lucky." Warrick quipped, "Makes a man feel _generous,, _you know."

"Really, Warrick? Speaking from personal experience?" Sara tried to remain cool, fighting the urge to laugh. Yeah, Grissom had gotten lucky just an hour before shift.

"Something like that."

"Hey Sara!" Grissom called over the crowd. "Can you see me from there?"

"Partially, what am I looking for?" She was yelling back, seeing his shoulder and part of his head peaking around Hodges.

"What am I holding in my hand?"

"Can't see anything. Hodges is blocking you and the strobe lights are shining in my eyes." 

"Great. Hodges move six inches to your left—the other left. Now Sara, can you see anything?"

"No!" 

"Catherine?"

"Just that it's something green!"

"Warrick? Stand up and tell me what you see!"

"It's a green and its thin, Grissom. That's all I can see."

"Ok, everyone. Experiment over, time for pizza. Thank you all for your help." The supervisor was yelling and everyone dispersed, heading toward the food. Greg flipped the lights on, cutting out the flashing strobes.

"So what does that mean?" Greg asked scooping a slice out of the box nearest Catherine. Sara, Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick settled at one of the 'club tables' Grissom and Greg had set up earlier.

"Someone could have seen, but only if they were on the dance floor." Grissom replied, handing Sara a veggie-covered piece before taking one for himself.

Catherine's brows rose, seeing the smooth and easily familiarity of his actions. "So how did he keep from getting caught?"

"That's the sixty four million dollar question, isn't it. Sara—can I borrow your scarf in a minute. Don't worry, you'll get it back." 

"I'd better. It was a gift and I'm particularly found of it."

"I'll guard it personally." He smirked at her, and she smiled back, unable to resist. "So, who's it from?" 

Umm. A friend." What was he doing, tormenting her like this. "What are you going to do with it?"

"You'll see."

"So who's your friend, Sara? New guy?" Catherine was getting more certain by the moment that the two science nerds were up to something.

"Just someone I've known for several years. Saw it in the store and was reminded of me."

"That's nice." 

"Yeah. My friend's a real sweetheart." Sara turned away for a moment, grabbing another napkin.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Grissom, Greg, Warrick and Nick stood in the middle of the warehouse floor, Sofia between them. The tables and chairs were still arranged as in the club diagram. Grissom handed Nick a knife and Sofia the scarf. Grissom helped her tie it in a similar knot as the first victims.

"The victims were all around Sofia's height and Doc Robbins estimates the killer to be about yours, Nicky." Grissom moved his CSIs and the one homicide detective around to simulate a crowded dance floor. "So, lets see what happens."

"So they're dancing, the floor's crowded, the lights are low, music loud." Nick puts one hand decorously on Sofia's waist. "Where's the knife hidden?"

"Yeah. I sure wouldn't dance with some nut job holding a knife no matter how cute he might be." Sofia winked at Nick, her flirtatious nature not surprising anyone in the room. So none of the other men caught on to their secret. Nick grinned back, his hand squeezing just a little tighter, just a little past professional.

"Good question." Grissom stepped back a moment and pondered. "Maybe he was wearing a jacket?" 

"No way, man. It gets pretty warm on the dance floor." Greg stated, "Most guys want to get as close as possible to the babes, that means no extra layers. A jacket would stand out as really strange."

"_Babes? _Greg? Someone needs to help you with your vocabulary." Sofia laughed dryly. Greg was one of her favorite flirting partners and she considered him a good friend.

"Sorry, _dames." _He shrugged and everyone laughed.

"Good point, though. What about long sleeves?" Grissom took some duct tape and loosely taped the knife to Nick's forearm. "So the guy had the knife in a sheath under his sleeve or maybe on his belt?"

"Probably on his belt. A woman would feel something under a sleeve and get suspicious. I know I would." Sofia and Nick danced a few steps, her hand on his arm. "I'd know what it felt like."

"Yes, but you've got a different background. Would that affect anything?" Warrick said, he and Greg and Grissom simulating a jostling crowd.

"Not really. The shape of a knife is pretty distinctive and if I'd just met the guy, it would freak me out a little."

"Ok. Apparently, these girls weren't freaked out so Nicky, move it to your belt." Everyone waited while he did so. "Sofia, are you aware of the knife?"

"I think they would have to be closer, Grissom. Less than six inches. After all, nobody saw anything. Not him, not even when she fell. How'd the guy manage that?" Warrick studied the couple beside them. "Nicky, get closer."

"Like this?" The Texan asked, pulling Sofia up against him, tucking her head under his neck. She laughed and pulled back a few inches, so that barely four separated them.

"Yeah. Now grab the scarf." Greg peered intently at them, something niggling in his brain. "He tethered them from behind with one hand, and knifed them with the other."

"Like this?" Nick mimicked pulling on the scarf, play-knifing Sofia.

"OK. We know the victims died nearly instantaneously, but how did he escape being seen with a dead girl in his arms?" Grissom worked all the angles in his head and still came up empty. "Especially on a crowded dance floor."

"Good question. I mean, that close, someone would surely notice a guy dropping a dead girl on the floor. Especially in the middle of the dance floor." Greg said, moving in circles around Nick and Sofia, who were still dancing nearly chest to chest.

"We're missing something." Grissom said again. "But what."

"At least we know one thing, maybe." Warrick said, waiting until they all looked at him. "The scarves aren't a pathological thing for him, but a _tool, _ a means to subdue his victims."

"Most likely." Grissom stated, making notes.

"I think I'm going to suggest Sara burn all her scarves. I didn't realize women's accessories could be so dangerous." Greg stated, thinking back to last year's murder where a lawyer was tied to a car with her panty-hose.

"You have no idea," Sofia shook her head, untying the blue silk around her neck and handing it to Grissom. "Things women do for beauty's sake always astounds me." 

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"Grissom finish with your scarf?" Catherine asked the younger, taller, woman beside her. "What did the man do with it?"

"I'm not really sure. Something to do with recreating." Sara retied the blue fabric around her neck, arranging the ends across one shoulder in the back and the other end draped over her chest.

"That man and his experiments," Catherine smiled, thinking of him recreating the conditions at Lake Mead several years ago.

"Aw, but he so enjoys them." Sara smirked as she opened the interrogation room door. Brass waited inside with their suspect.

"Is he the only one?" Catherine speculated, settling in the chair. Neither woman had granted the man in custody much more than a glance. This was deliberate. He was the type of man who devalued women and they wanted to show him who held the power. Anger him, see what sort of information he'd let slip.

"Oh, no. I love working on experiments with the man."

"So do you love _experiments _with the man or do you love _the man?" _ Catherine got out, deciding on candidness with Sara.

Sara dropped the file on the table, shocked at Catherine's words and the sound of Brass choking beside her. "What do you mean?" 

"Come on, girl. Something's up with you two. And I saw the beard burn under that silk," Catherine smiled as Sara's hand flew to her neck. The younger woman's cheeks turned red.

"Can we talk about this later?" She nodded pointedly towards the observation room window.

"Oh yeah. We definitely will. But tell me something—does he know what to do?" Catherine asked a question that she'd often wondered about. Grissom was fifty years old and she knew he hadn't spent those years in celibacy. And with the care the man took with everything else—wouldn't he be just as thorough in the bedroom?

Brass sputtered, coffee spewing over the table, coming close to the suspect's hands. He coughed, tears streaming down his cheeks at the strawberry blonde's question. "Don't answer that, Sparky. Please, not while I am in the room."

"Can someone please fill me in as to what's going on here?" The suspect suddenly demanded, leaning across the table.

"Oh. Please excuse us, Mr. Jordene." Catherine said in a deliberately off-hand voice.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Sara added, equally uncaring. "We got held up on lunch break. Brass, when we're finished here Grissom sprung for pizza. You out to go get a piece. Sofia's still in there."

"Will do that, where at?" Brass asked, knowing what tactics they were utilizing. "If you two don't mind, that is."

"Warehouse C. They've recreated a night club, of course, Warrick had to dance with Greg, but…it's all for the job after all." Catherine laughed, looking over the suspect's shoulders at the older man behind him. Brass wiggled his brows comically at the suspect's back. Catherine really enjoyed Brass's flat sense of humor, and was glad to see it returning after the Bell shooting and his own recent ordeal.

"Can we get down to business here?" Jordene demanded, "I would like to get this settled so I can get the hell out of here." 

"About that?" Sara said nonchalant. "It won't be happening any time soon."

"What do you mean? I didn't do nothin' to my sister," He was yelling, pushing the files in front of Sara to the floor. "You can't say I did."

"Mr. Jordene, I personally matched the soil I found under your sister's nails with that found in your car and in your shoes." Sara said, hardening her voice. "Know what that means?"

"That you're a bitch!" He was yelling viciously, jumping the table. He flew into Sara, knocking her backwards. Catherine was yelling, jumping out of the way as the large man's momentum carried him and Sara through the glass-paned wall and into the hallway—glass shards flying everywhere.

Brass attempted to pull the man off the Struggling Sara with no luck. The man was 20 years younger and a foot taller. Brass had only been back on the job a few months after his near fatal shooting. Catherine tried to grab one of the man's arms but he shook her off. She hit a button, paging security.

Sara was yelling, Brass was yelling, Catherine was yelling, and the suspect was yelling. Grissom and Nick heard the commotion has they rounded the corner and began to run.

"That's coming from interrogation!" Nick called, slightly ahead of the older man.

"Shit!" Grissom yelled as they rounded the last corner and saw what was happening.

He ran to assist Brass. He grabbed the man's shirt, pulling with a surge of adrenaline. Sara kept kicking, arms up to protect her face and neck. Grissom dragged the suspect back at least three feet from the woman and Nick and Brass wrestled the big man to the ground where they held him until security arrived. Catherine rocked back on her heels, glass crunching beneath her feet, watching as Grissom helped the younger woman sit. His hands ran over her shoulders, pulling her closer until they were almost touching. "Honey? You're bleeding, where are you cut?"

Nick's eyebrows rose at the near panic in the man's voice. _Honey? _Was Sofia right—was there something going on between the two?

"He banged my head on the floor a few times, I think. Other than that I'm ok. Better help me up before someone sees!"

"Someone all ready has, kiddo," Catherine said dryly. "But Gil, she has a point. You don't want rumors started that get back to Ecklie."

"She needs to be checked out, Cath."

"I'll take her over to Desert Palms. You take care of this mess and file the assault report."

"I'll take care of it. Call me after she's seen the doctor."

"Hey!" Sara said, indignant. "I'm still here you know."

"Sorry honey." Grissom helped her to her feet, not releasing her until he was sure she could stand by herself. "Are you sure you'll be ok?"

"Aren't I always?"

"Come on, let's get going," Catherine guided her friend from the room, leaving Gil with the suspect.

As soon as they rounded the corner Grissom gave strict orders to the crowd that was forming. "Back to work!"

Wendy hesitated a moment, before addressing the supervisor. "Grissom. I have some information for Sara and Catherine about their case."

"Yes? What is it?"

"DNA from the suspect is not a match."

"Told them bitches I didn't do it! Let me up!" Jordene snarled, pulling against Nick's hold.

"Cuff him to the table." Brass ordered, "While we clean up this mess. Then escort him to back to the tank."

"I didn't do it. And I need a damned doctor or something!" Jordene fought against the security officer. "I might need stitches or something."

"You can wait." Brass told him, watching Grissom intently. He'd never seen that look in the bugman's eyes and it was beginning to worry him. "In fact, Grissom, I think he should wait right there until Catherine and Sara get back. That'll be three, four hours, you think?"

"Wouldn't bother me a bit if the man bled to death." Grissom growled as he lowered himself into a chair across the table from the man. "In fact, Jim, there's less blood in the human body than most people think."

Jordene's face lost its ruddiness swiftly and Grissom smiled a hateful smile. Brass blanched at the intensity of it. He'd always known the scientist had the capability to be truly dangerous.

"Shall we do another experiment? I do like research into science and all. We could time exactly how long it takes for a man of this size to bleed to death." Grissom's tone never wavered. That was one of his traits; one could never tell if he was joking or serious when he spoke. It had served him well on this job.

"Experiments? You the one them women was talking about? The one doing the bitch?"

"Excuse me?" Grissom's brows lowered as he looked at the man. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing. When am I getting out of here?"

"You're not." Brass told him, laughing rudely. Maintenance arrived and began sweeping up the broken glass after Nick returned and took several pictures, bagged some bloody shards for later evidence. "Officer Rodriquez, see that this man stays right where he is until I personally tell you otherwise, got it?"

"Yes, Captain Brass."

"But I didn't do nothing!"

"Hell, son. You assaulted a member of the LVPD. You're not going anywhere anytime soon." Brass filled him in on his own stupidity before Grissom could.

"What about my hands! I'm bleeding here, you can't do this to me! I have rights!" Indignation colored the man's voice.

Grissom turned from his place by the now-broken door. "What about Sara? She was bleeding too!"

He strode out of the room, not looking back when Brass ordered someone to tend to Jordene's bloody hands.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"So, Ms. Sidle, what exactly happened?" The ER doctor asked, picking glass shards from Sara's exposed back. A thin tank top does very little to protect against window glass.

"Suspect threw her through a glass wall," Catherine explained as she watched him pull a particularly long shard out.

"You ladies cops?"

"In a way. We analyze the evidence." Catherine told him, liking the man's dark good looks. He reminded her of Nick in a way.

"And these bruises? How did you get them?" The doctor motioned to fading bruises on her shoulders and left arm shaped like handprints.

"Barroom brawl four days ago." Sara said dryly. "I was right in the middle of it."

"And these?" He asked, running a professional hand over the ridged scars along her back and sides. Sara stiffened and Catherine looked closer, sure that what she was seeing where belt scars.

"Childhood injury. Boring story." Sara said stiffly, and Catherine straightened, not wanting the younger woman to know she'd seen them. That explained a few things—like why child abuse and domestic abuse cases really bothered Sara. "You almost done?"

"Just about. There was also something about your head hitting the floor?"

"He banged her head at least three times. Tile floor, covered with glass." Catherine informed him, guessing that Sara would try to downplay it.

"In that case, I'd say you were pretty lucky. Lean over and rest your head on your arms, lets make sure there's no glass in your scalp. Then I'll send you for an x-ray. We'll rush you through."

Sara did as the man ordered, flinching occasionally, though his fingers were gentle.

"There. I think that's all the glass. Take this and head up to radiology. Here's your prescription for antibiotics—take _all _of them. You've a lot of cuts and a lot of opportunity for bacteria to get in." The doctor handed Sara the papers, smiling at her as he did so, taking his first good look at the tall brunette.

"Thanks," Sara smiled back at the good looking physician.

"Anytime," He winked, handing her one more paper. "Give this to radiology."

"Thanks, doctor. We appreciate you rushing us through." Catherine said as Sara donned the generic green scrub shirt that the doctor pulled out of a cabinet. Her blue tank top and the matching scarf Grissom had borrowed just a few hours earlier were completely ruined. The doctor looked away decorously, but Catherine could tell the man was very aware of what Sara was doing.

She grinned, planning on needling a certain entomologist with the information when they returned to the lab. She waited while Sara was in radiology, holding the bag containing Sara's shirt and scarf—now evidence.

"Hey miss!"

She turned, seeing the ER doctor walking toward her. "Please, it's Catherine."

"Catherine, can you give this to your colleague for me?"

"It would be my pleasure. I'll make sure she gets it." Catherine took the business car with a number written on it from the man. She felt a small twinge that he'd obviously found the younger woman more attractive than she.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Grissom answered the phone, turning away from the other four men in the conference room—Sinclair, Ecklie, McKeen, and Brass. "Cath? Sara ok?"

He waited a moment, tension tightening his mouth. "That's good. So she is coming back in. I'll see you both shortly then."

He turned back to his colleagues. "Sorry about that, had a bit of a medical situation earlier."

"Sparky ok?" Brass asked, using his nickname for Sara.

"Who?" Sinclair asked.

"Sara Sidle. A suspect knocked her through the window in interrogation room A." Brass explained. "She ok, Gil?"

"Minor cuts, antibiotics. Bruised. No signs of concussion, though she will be sore for a while."

"Girl's probably still bruised from last week." Brass shook his head, "Just not been her week."

"What happened last week?" Sinclair asked again, being in the DA's office often made him the last to gain information.

"She was involved in that altercation at the Liberty Palace. Six members of the lab and one detective, I believe. Surprised you haven't heard about it yet." McKeen said, giving Brass and Grissom resigned glares.

"Involved—hell, the woman _caused _the brawl." Ecklie snarked. He and Sara had had more than their fair share of differences.

"No. Ecklie, she did not. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." Grissom told him in a hard voice.

"Sara alright, though?" Sinclair asked, surprising Grissom by the use of her first name. "Not hurt too badly?"

"Busted lip, bruises, sore ribs. Nothing major."

"Good." The lawyer said, the concern fading from his eyes. Grissom looked at the man and wondered. How well did Sara know the attorney? Were they good friends? She always professed to be allergic to attorneys.

"Back to the case." McKeen ordered.

"Actually, that fight led into this case. While Sara and Detective Curtis and Catherine Willows where _brawling _on the other side of the club, another young woman was being murdered. When the police broke up the brawl they found the body of Tara Dees." Brass began.

"Several more bodies have been discovered, along with four or five in the past six months." Grissom added, fanning the files he held out on the conference table.


End file.
